Watching the pleasure in each other's eyes.
Ah well, 'tis vain to talk! Two-thirds of life
Till now I've spent in spotless purity—
Affection's been retarded by desire
As has my work; my dreams have far excelled
The beauty God moulds into human shape.
The sweet perfection of the womankind
Who haunt my brain, has held me back from love.
This . . . this was so till Mona Lisa came.
Four years I've painted when it was her day,